Acknowledging
by Frozen Raspberries
Summary: This is going to be a psychological thriller info is in the Prologue of the story. I'm not sure if I have set the rating to high but I thought better safe that sorry as it may develop on to things that are inappropriate for younger readers.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first chapter so please read, review and enjoy and as always constructive criticism is always welcome as is advice on writing. **

"_I'm not insane, I don't belong here. The definition of being insane is being in a state of mind that prevents normal perception, behaviour or social interaction. I don't have these problems ergo I am not insane"_

He'll sit there chanting that day in and day out. He won't stop, he can't. No one who really belongs here can help themselves. The man in the room opposite is Dissociative Identity Disorder, the woman in the next room has Cotard's syndrome. She believes she's dead and I say she's not far off the truth. It's how they want us to feel, if we're just about functioning we're not dangerous. This is how I live now, among the criminally insane, let to rot and fester until I'm buried in the cemetery out back. I can't say it's a thrilling existence and I can't say it's one I deserve. I am completely and rationally sane or at least I was when I entered. They keep you so drugged up here after a while you're not sure who you are.

Apparently I'm rather famous, it's not often you get crimes like mine. I get written to by all sorts of people, even ones from abroad. Some are full of malice and spite, others sympathise with me. Some tell me that if I accept Jesus into my heart everything will be better. I try but nothing ever changes. I'll never leave here, no one will magically come back to life. After a while I stopped trying just like I stopped protesting that I don't belong here because here's the simple truth – no one's listening. You can fool yourself all you want but everything I'm forced to come to the conclusion that ultimately you are alone in this world and that's that.

I suppose I brought this on myself. I was always so cold and calculating wasn't I? Even you commented on it thought you tried so hard to downplay it. I was stubborn and difficult too. I don't know how you lived with me Gomez I really don't. I can almost see you protesting, telling me I was fine but you must admit I wasn't exactly welcoming. I was a horrible mother to – I'm afraid it really does have to be acknowledged after all this time. I was always so critical, our children learnt to walk and while you applauded I complained that now everything would have to be placed out of reach. The smallest things amazed you and bored me. Even our house caused problems. My darling I suppose I should confess now how much it appalled me. Even you had to admit it was an acquired taste which meant not even you could learn to love it. The prospect of waking up there every morning was enough to make me consider walking into a lake in a concrete diving suit. In short I would rather have lived out my days in a bus shelter. I often fear I bore you with my letters that you would rather I stopped writing all together but I can't. I afraid that if I stop I'll lose prove that I am truly sane and I will succumb to the mind numbing monotony of the routine here. I have just one question though, if you loved me and still indeed do why do you never visit?


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok sorry for the long delay but I'm going to try this again Not entirely sure where I intended to go with this originally but I'll come up with something knew. To little obsessions yes I was InsanePink over on Livejournal and originally here **

_July 3__rd_

Dear Gomez,

Your mother was right, wasn't she? Marrying me was an awful choice. We were such different people to your parents, so of course at the time we assumed we knew better. My dearest I think it's time that we acknowledge we didn't and still don't. Your parents were so calculated that I often wondered how you were their son. They never took a risk unless it had been so meticulously plotted that it no longer became a risk. After the first time we met them together you described them as an acquired taste, and I could have hit you.

While it was not often the times you infuriated me drove me nearly to distraction. Many of these occasions were when you called something an 'acquired taste'. It was your way of saying you didn't like it either but you were going to pretend to and you'd throw yourself blindly into the commitment. You'd say acquired taste I'd say what I was really thinking – and this was rarely pleasant.

Looking back I realise living with me soon became one of your favourite things to call an acquired taste. I realise now it's what got you to wake up each morning, the thought of facing me a challenge that you decided you would win. Of course I became more challenging and you became less inclined to try and help. By the time the children came along the battle lines were not only drawn up but well marked out, armed and ready. It was like two strangers living in the same house tiptoeing around each other and hideous design features you told me I'd learn to love. I never did and we never quite managed to fix things. Indeed by the time the children were 3 and 4 respectively we were well on the slippery slope towards the undeniable end.

Yours forever

Morticia


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, I haven't updated this in ages so really sorry about that, I got lost in work and exams and everything but I'm going to try and update this regularly now As always reviews are much appreciated **

_July 12__th_

Dear Gomez,

Do you blame me? You must blame me terribly, you must almost wish I'd never been born but, my darling, you must understand I wasn't solely to blame. I suppose in part I blame you, for this, for everything. I often think you should be here rotting away in this hellhole instead of living freely as you wish, but alas, I cannot change the past anymore than you. If we're looking at the truth, you really weren't ever there, in that house, with the children, day in and day out. You always did promise that it would 'grow on me' but it never did, I despised the life you'd built up for us, and in the end my love I'm fairly certain I despised you.

Perhaps though before you judge me, though rest assured I am well aware that you already have, you really ought to hear my side of the story. You should at the very least be curious about what happened. In any case humour me by allowing me to write what happened, before I lose my fight for sanity, or indeed my life. I've heard there are petitions to send me to the electric chair, and I am touched by how connected with the story, complete strangers are. Perhaps if you and I had been more connected, this would never have happened.

Yours forever,

Morticia


End file.
